


A Semblance of Life

by Veritas03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M, Magic is Awesome, Post-War, a bit of angst, kind of pre-slashy, returning Draco's wand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas03/pseuds/Veritas03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't seem to please anyone and is tired of trying. Draco has opted for liquid comfort and talking to animals (the stuffed and mounted sort).<br/>**Please read the Author's Note before diving into this fic. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** This first chapter is really just Harry and kind of angsty. There is a brief mention of Draco to set up his arrival in Chapter Two - where there is MUCH less angst, more fun and humor. This was my very first attempt at writing fanfiction way back in 2009 (don't worry, this version has been wrangled into better shape), so I'll admit to being somewhat attached to this story. It’s written in two very different parts. Now that I’ve been in the world of fanfiction a while, I recognize that the first part contains what some people might think of as mild Weasley bashing. I don’t really agree with that. What this part does do is show people dealing with growing up and working through the painful loss and changes brought about by war. Sometimes in those situations, families struggle – it doesn’t mean they no longer love each other. I’m really making this sound much more dire, I think, than it is – although Ron and Harry do have a fairly unpleasant argument. Just be prepared for that. (And if I ever write a sequel to this, I promise to repair any strained relationships). The second part is where Draco comes in and the tone of the second part is much different from the first. There’s humor and hope. And kissing! Rawr!  
>  So, if you don't want any angst, just skip right ahead to Chapter 2. It can pretty much stand alone and is a lot more fun. ♥

Harry threw himself onto the couch, obviously preparing to spend a fair amount of time wallowing in teenaged angst. “Please, Andromeda. Don’t _you_ start, too. Lately, you're the only person who hasn’t felt free to complain about every single thing I do.”

Andromeda watched him from a comfortable chair across the sitting room of her home. On one hand, she was pleased to see Harry exhibit behavior typical of the normal teenager he’d never really been allowed to be. In the months since the end of the war, she had watched him struggle with grief and depression. The price of his victory over Voldemort had been dear. It had helped him to spend time with Teddy and have the haven that her home provided away from everyone wanting a piece of the Savior. Lately, she had noticed the beginnings of a sense peace that this uncommon young man so needed and deserved. On the other hand however…

“Hmm... What was that Muggle phrase that my Nymphadora would utter at moments like this?” Andromeda seemed to ponder for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin. “Oh yes! Drama Queen! That was it,” she said, making a show of looking quite pleased with herself.

“Oh, very funny.” Harry sat up, giving her an unrepentantly grumpy face. “I just don’t think I’m ready to get grief from someone I don’t even like - when I’ve already had more than enough of it from people who are supposed to be my friends.”

“I just think you should reconsider. You know that returning Draco’s wand is the right thing to do at this point. We’ve discussed this. And you don’t know that he’d give you grief.”

Harry sighed deeply. He didn’t want to disappoint Andromeda. She’d been a life-saver for him. Despite the fact that she’d been dealing with the loss of her husband and daughter, she had opened her home to Harry. Together they had faced turmoil and tragedy, each finding solace in the presence of the other and in their shared love and concern for a small orphaned boy. 

“Draco” - he used the other young man’s given name only because he knew how much Andromeda hated it when Harry called him ‘Malfoy’ - “has never given me much of anything else. Why should that change now?”

Andromeda rose gracefully from her chair and moved to join Harry on the couch. “Because now everything has changed,” she said softly.

A knowing look passed between them before Harry took her hand. “Well, I can’t argue with you there,” he said, giving her a small, sad smile.

Before she could utter her reply, the wail of a child broke the silence. With an indulgent smile, Andromeda rose from the couch. “Nap time’s over then. I’ll just go see to the little terror. Why don’t you ask Winky to prepare our tea?”

Harry watched her go and then made his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. He found comfort in the now familiar routines that had begun to define their current circumstances. He couldn’t recall Andromeda ever actually asking him to come live with her and Teddy. It just seemed that one day he had his own room in her home, and it was expected that he make himself comfortable there. It hadn’t been a difficult decision for him. Harry had been ill at ease in the dark silence of Grimmauld Place. He’d been even more distressed when at the Burrow. He grimaced, recalling his latest visit there just the day before.

“Master Harry!” Winky greeted him as he entered the kitchen. “Winky will start tea soon?” 

“Yes, Winky. I was just coming to suggest that.” He noticed the house-elf had already begun the preparations. “Looks as though you’re a step ahead of us, as usual. Thank you.” The house-elf beamed her appreciation for his compliment and turned to her task. Harry smiled as he watched her. 

Many of the Hogwart’s house-elves had joined the rebuilding effort after the final battle left many parts of the castle uninhabitable. Some, though, were like Winky and, without large numbers of students and staff there in need of care, had offered their services to wizarding families. It had been at Harry’s suggestion that Andromeda and Winky had come to an arrangement. Though she had lived without house-elves for several years (in deference to her Muggle-born husband’s preferences), Andromeda had been receptive to the idea. Feeling bereft with the loss of her husband and daughter, she was somewhat relieved to have assistance in the care of her infant grandson. Winky had been a timely and welcome addition to the household.

Leaving the contented house-elf to her task, Harry wandered outside to the back garden. Settling into the swing, his thoughts returned to his visit to the Burrow. “Everything really has changed now,” he whispered to himself as he gazed at the varicolored autumn leaves still clinging, for the most part, to the trees.

*********************************************************************

He’d been invited to Saturday lunch with the Weasley family. Knowing that it was probably a bad idea, he’d gone anyway. The only positive Harry could now acknowledge was that Hermione had not been in attendance.

She had worked hard to help Professor McGonagall arrange a viable option to those seeking to continue their education while Hogwarts remained closed for restoration. The make-shift campus was located in a small wizarding village on the outskirts of Leicester. The city’s more central location made it a practical choice for the majority of students who chose to commute by various means. There were accommodations for those few students who had chosen to stay near the campus. Most families, though, seemed not yet ready to be separated to that extent - the horrors of the war, though receding, still weighing upon them. Most appeared to be waiting for the reopening of Hogwarts, probably still another school year away, to allow their children to board away from home.

His first misstep of the day had been in reference to Hermione. Harry had arrived at the Burrow about forty-five minutes before the meal was to commence. He’d thought he could make himself useful to Mrs. Weasley and, at the same time, use the tasks he would be given to avoid anything more than superficial conversation. Unfortunately, Ron had greeted him in the yard when he’d Apparated in. It was a fine day for early November, so he supposed he should have known better than to hope everyone would be inside.

“Hey, mate,” Ron called as he strode forth. “Didn’t know if you’d make it today. It’s been hit and miss with you lately, yeah?”

“Sorry,” Harry had said, but hating the fact that it always seemed as if he was apologizing for something. “We’ve been busy trying to sort out some things at Grimmauld Place.” 

“You finally moving in there?”

Harry hesitated, wishing he’d thought of a better excuse for absenting himself from his friends of late. It was true that he and Andromeda had been making plans for some major changes at the old Black mansion he had inherited from Sirius. While he had no desire to ever make his home there, he thought that, if he could ever get it cleaned up and cleared out of the many questionable artifacts left by the Black family, he might make it into something that he could one day give to Teddy. The boy was, after all, closely tied to that family through his grandmother. Andromeda had thought it was a fine idea. Then again, Andromeda understood why the house, with its reminders of Sirius and so many things about the war, held no attraction for Harry. His friends, however, didn’t get it at all.

“Uh… not yet,” he answered vaguely and then moved to change the topic. “Is Hermione inside?”

“No. She decided to stay at school this weekend.” Ron turned to walk toward the house. “She’s actually teaching a couple of the classes for the younger years and wanted a little more time to prepare lessons. We’re still a little short on staff.”

“Oh. I reckon she’s really enjoying that.”

“Yeah she is. Matter of fact, she’s considering taking up teaching once Hogwarts reopens. McGonagall’s been talking to her about it.”

“Really? I thought she was going to pursue work at the Ministry. You know, right the wrongs and all that.” Harry’s grin at that thought was returned by Ron.

“Oh you know Hermione. She’ll have her causes no matter what career she chooses. She really seems to be thinking seriously about teaching though.” Ron shot Harry a rueful glance and joked, “Don’t know if I’d want to be in her in class though.”

And that’s where Harry should have kept his next thought to himself. Instead - “Yeah, I’d wager she’s tough. Sometimes the brightest students don’t really make the best teachers.”

Ron stopped. Harry cringed inside at the glare his best friend turned upon him, obviously offended at the suggestion that there was something his brilliant girlfriend couldn’t do. “Hermione would make a great teacher. She’s smarter than everybody we know.”

“I know, mate,” Harry said, placating. “I just meant that, well, you know… of course she’s super smart. It’s just - don’t you remember sometimes how we’d have trouble understanding her explanations?” Harry was relieved to see Ron relax a bit. “And - remember how irritated she’d be with us for not getting it?”

Ron gave a small nod and shrug in acknowledgement. “Yeah, I remember. She didn’t always have a lot of patience with us.”

Harry felt relief sweep though his body, not having realized just how rigidly he’d been holding himself. “Yeah, mate. That’s all I was trying to say.”

Ron seemed to accept that explanation, and they made their way into the house. Harry immediately found himself swept into a Mrs. Weasley hug. He appreciated the hug and the fact that she actually admitted that he seemed to have been eating well. He did not appreciate that, without missing a beat, she then launched into yet another lecture about the decision he’d made against returning to school with the others. Hermione, no doubt, would have been proud of her.

“Mrs. Weasley, I know you’re concerned about my education. Um... did I tell you that Andromeda's been helping me check into the possibility of finding tutors so I can prepare for my NEWTS?” It was a risk to mention it. Harry reckoned Molly wouldn't be pleased about it at all; it didn’t fit into her expectations of what she thought he should do. Glancing at Ron, he could see that his friend didn’t seem to think much of the idea either. Harry knew that Ron had been hoping that he would “come to his senses” and join them at school. 

Molly seemed to be trying to decide between wringing her hands and crushing him into another hug. Instead, she settled for turning back to the kitchen and her preparation of the meal. “Well, of course I’m pleased to hear that you are still planning to take your exams. I just think it’s a shame that you’re missing out on a part of your childhood.” 

Harry felt as though it took all his self-restraint to keep from Apparating out at that point before he started yelling at her that it was far too late to be worrying about what he might have missed out on in his childhood. Despite his regard for this woman who, for a long time, provided the closest experience he’d ever had of what it might have meant to have a mother, her sometimes presumptuous comments offended him. And it grated to know that she still considered him no more than a child. She’d been there at the final battle. She’d seen or been told most of what he had gone through to defeat the most powerful dark wizard in existence. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself of all that she’d done for him over the years. He reminded himself, too, that he should be happy to see her, more and more, returning to herself since the loss of her son. And, if she considered him still a child, he acknowledged it was no more than the way she thought of her own children, despite their ages.

Harry let out another slow, deep breath. Finally, moving to her side and gently touching her arm, he asked, “So, how can I help you?” Having then been given a smile and a task to bring more chairs to the table, he tried to ignore the weight of Ron’s gaze.

By the time the table was set, other family members had begun to arrive. First were Percy and Mr. Weasley, who had evidently been discussing Ministry business in the study when Harry had arrived. Then George, who brought his friend Lee Jordan. George seemed always to have someone with him these days, and Harry wondered if he just didn’t know how to be alone anymore. He felt the familiar, gnawing guilt that, since Fred’s death, he didn’t know what to say to George when they were together. 

Just as they were moving toward their seats, footsteps on the stairs drew everyone’s attention to the arrival of Ginny and Neville. Harry smirked at Neville’s blush. He thought about how different Neville appeared at this moment compared to the day, about a month after the final battle, when he’d sought Harry out to tell him that he intended to pursue Ginny.

It was during the time that, though the funerals and memorial services were finally over, the Weasleys - like many in the wizarding world - were still spending much of their time together, working through their grief as families do. Harry had seen and spoken some with Ginny, but mostly he had been giving her time with her family. He had been dealing with his own issues and, with the beginning of the Death Eater trials, had been fairly busy at the Ministry. To be honest, he hadn’t felt a real urgency to address the state of their relationship, so he didn’t really mind that she didn’t seem in any hurry either.

Neville had sought him out at Andromeda’s house. Harry remembered his confident stride as he was shown into the study. Heroism agreed with Neville. This was not the shy, clumsy boy of their early years at school. This was the hero of Hogwarts. The young man who had led the resistance until Harry, Ron, and Hermione could return with a plan to defeat Voldemort. This was the warrior who had brandished the sword to slaughter the freakish serpent. And this was the man who politely, but resolutely, declared to Harry that he loved Ginny and intended to court her. The only real surprise Harry remembered feeling at this declaration was that he hadn’t been nearly as concerned or offended as he probably should had been. 

Now, five months later, Ginny and Neville were officially a couple. Truthfully, Harry could not have been happier for them. He didn’t know what had happened to the romantic ideals he’d had regarding Ginny. He just knew that he’d slid easily back into the role of friend and hadn’t felt much regret about it. The only thing that bothered him at all, and only just a bit, was when she insisted on making comments like -

“Here we are! Me and the best boyfriend in the whole world!” Ginny reached up to kiss Neville’s cheek. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if she said things like that truly as a compliment to Neville or, as he suspected, a reminder to him that, Savior or not, he had let her down. He had decided not to begrudge her a little resentment, if that was what it was about. But surely, if she was really as happy in her relationship with Neville as she seemed to be, she wouldn’t continue to needle Harry about his failure as a boyfriend. Then again, he’d thought, maybe he was reading it wrong. 

The meal had proceeded with family banter that, while much more subdued than in the past, signaled to Harry a sense that the Weasley family was - like most of the wizarding world - finally beginning to move on from the war. Harry noticed, however, that Ron continued to regard him with a serious gaze and realized that a long overdue discussion would need to take place before he left the Burrow that day.

After the meal, Ron and Harry walked around the garden watching a few gnomes scurry about in an effort to avoid contact with the two wizards. Most of the family had retreated to the lounge after seeing George and Lee off. Harry had assumed that Ron would again try to bring up Harry’s refusal to return to school, but several minutes had passed without his friend saying much of anything. Finally, just as it seemed Harry would have to be the one to broach the topic, Ron turned to him and began the discussion that Harry knew would only cause further contention between them.

“So,” Ron began, and Harry tensed at the ugliness of his tone, “instead of coming to Leicester to finish school with us, you’re going to hire tutors? Aren’t you just turning in to the rich, celebrity snob - too good to mingle with the common folk.”

Harry had been ready for Ron to be displeased that he was moving forward with a plan, one that would lay to rest the expectation that he would return to the school setting as they were all telling him he should do. He hadn’t anticipated the spin that Ron was putting on it with the whole celebrity comment. He recognized the return of the jealousy that Ron had always seemed to harbor and realized this would make his next confession seem even worse to Ron.

“Come on, Ron. You know it’s not about anything like that.”

“Do I?” Ron moved belligerently into his personal space, sending Harry immediately from zero to pissed off. He hated it when Ron used his larger stature to try to intimidate him. Ron continued with his sneering tone as he tried, unsuccessfully, to make Harry give ground. When had their friendship deteriorated to this? “You know, Harry, you’re not the only one who fought in the war. You’re not the only one who lost people. We were all there. Especially Hermione and me. And now it’s like you’re too precious and fragile to be around any of us. Well we were there, too. We know exactly what you had to go through, so get the fuck over it!”

“Until you have a psychotic freak living in your head and have to fucking die to get rid of him, you don’t know shit about what I went through!” Harry shouted, his posture just as belligerent as Ron’s, his whole body vibrating with his anger.

They heard the door open, and Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley standing there. Ron gave a brief wave to his father and backed up a bit, but maintained his hateful glare. Mr. Weasley watched them a moment more, but then went back inside the house.

A few minutes passed in silence. Harry worked at pulling his anger back. He wasn’t overly successful, but he knew he had more he needed to tell Ron. He also knew that, based on where this discussion had already gone, it would not end well. He tried for a deep, calming breath, but adrenaline refused to allow it to have any real effect.

“Ron, I just don’t see why it matters so much. It’s like you’re saying we can’t be friends if you’re in one place and I’m in another. It’s not like we’ll do everything together for the rest of our lives.”

Ron jumped on this immediately. “But that’s just it! How long have we talked about how we would finish school and then go through Auror training together? We were supposed to be partners! How are you going to do that if you don’t even take your exams? And don’t give me that shit about hiring tutors. You’re just going to go off somewhere and leave me with nothing.”

And that was when Harry understood. Ron’s insecurities refused to allow him to believe that he could do this on his own. He’d previously voiced his fear that his modest scores in classes like Potions would preclude him from being accepted into the auror training program. Harry had told him that Kingsley had implied that, with their experiences in the war and the bravery and abilities they had shown, taking the exams would be a mere formality. Unless they completely bombed the tests, their places in the training program were assured. It was indeed, good to be the heroes.

Ron didn’t need to say aloud that he feared that Kingsley’s offer was mainly for Harry - that he was included only because he was Harry’s “sidekick”. Harry didn’t feel that was the case, but he recognized that Ron’s self-doubt wouldn’t allow him to see it any other way. Harry also knew he had to come clean with Ron and couldn’t put it off any longer. Bracing himself he said, “Even if I no longer want to be an Auror, it doesn’t mean that you can’t do it. It doesn’t mean we won’t still be friends.”

“I knew it! I knew you were backing out of it! Yeah, thanks a lot, mate.” Ron threw his hands in the air and walked a few steps away. A few seconds later he turned back, piercing Harry with his gaze. “So, what are you going to do? What is the great Harry Potter going to do besides desert his friends and hide away?” 

Harry hesitated until he could speak with some confidence, fearing that his voice would betray him and come out sounding like a mumbled apology. “I’m thinking about playing Quidditch.”

Ron’s whole body stilled, and he just stared at Harry for a moment. Then he barked a laugh and said, “That’s it? Playing Quidditch? That’s your plan?”

Though he’d been expecting a negative response, Harry still found that it irked him - enough to come back with, “Yeah, fine. If you’re going to start channeling Hermione, I’m out of here!”

Ron’s anger returned instantly. “Oh I get it. You’re always on about how you hate the attention, the publicity, your picture in the _Prophet_. What is it, Harry? Afraid of losing your celebrity status if you’re not constantly in front of the crowds?”

This Harry had been expecting. He knew Ron’s jealousy would make him jump to this kind of assumption. “No, that’s NOT it. Why can’t it just be that I want to do something fun for a change? Something mindless and totally removed from anything related to Dark Magic and the war?”

Another hateful laugh. “Well good luck with that. No doubt being the _Savior_ will get you an interview or two. Don’t know how much killing Voldemort meets the qualifications, but I’m sure Kingsley will put in a good word. Course, being Head Auror probably doesn’t carry as much weight outside the Ministry.”

Harry had not been inclined to tell Ron that he’d already been approached by a couple of the professional teams and was seriously considering the deal offered by the Montrose Magpies. He was even less inclined to do so now. Well, he had at least let Ron know that he no longer wanted to pursue becoming an Auror and had brought up the possibility of Quidditch. Now Ron wouldn’t be completely blindsided when the news broke. Although, at the moment, Harry was wondering why he even cared about that.

“Fine. Thanks for the encouragement. But anyway, it’s my life not yours. If you still want to be an Auror just go for it. You don’t need me.”

“You’re right!” Ron bellowed. “I don’t need you!” He turned and stormed toward the house, but rounded back for one more parting shot. “None of us do!”

Harry stood, rooted to the spot for a moment, as he watched Ron’s retreat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the gnomes sitting on the ground not far away, whispering excitedly to each other. Apparently, they had enjoyed the show. With a sigh filled more with resignation than sadness, Harry turned and Apparated away from the Burrow.

tbc


	2. Chapter Two

“When you said that Narcissa and Draco had taken up residence in the Malfoy hunting lodge in Scotland… this isn’t really what I pictured,” Harry said as he stared at the abode in front of him.

“I suppose you heard ‘hunting’ and ‘lodge’ and failed to factor in the ‘Malfoy’ part?” Andromeda’s amusement was evident in her tone.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered. Though he’d had other things on his mind when he had first seen Malfoy Manor (primarily not being recognized by anyone or eaten by Fenrir Greyback), Harry had acknowledged that it was a magnificent, if imposing, mansion. The Malfoy hunting lodge was, in Harry’s mind, every bit as stately. He had pictured something more rustic. A modest country house, perhaps. Evidently, the Malfoys just didn’t do modest. “So much for my idea that Draco and his mum were slumming it.” Harry turned to her to ask, “I still don’t get why they’re staying here. I mean, it’s obviously not too much of a hardship, but why aren’t they at the Manor?”

“Narcissa’s stated reason is that she can’t stand continually having to step around the Aurors and various other Ministry officials who are forever coming up with reasons to rummage through the rooms of Voldemort’s former headquarters.”

“So they’ve just left the Manor open to the Ministry? That surprises me.”

Andromeda took Harry’s arm as they began to make their way toward the lodge from the Apparition point. “Oh, the Ministry isn’t allowed to just wander about unsupervised, but the Malfoys have people that they pay very well to deal with that mundane sort of business. And they wouldn’t leave themselves open to any risk. They’re even more protective of themselves and their property after the ordeal with Voldemort. The Ministry really doesn’t hold a candle to that. But I don’t think that’s the main reason they are staying here.” She paused and Harry turned to look at her, silently urging her to continue. Harry noticed her slight frown as she said, “I believe that, as odd as it may sound, Narcissa feels closer to Lucius here.” 

At their trial, Narcissa and Draco had been cleared of all charges due in large part to Harry’s verification of the aid they had both given to him. Lucius Malfoy, though given more leniency than many thought he deserved, had been returned to Azkaban to finish part of the sentence he had been serving when Voldemort had orchestrated his escape from the wizarding prison. He could very likely be expected to serve up to two more years. Harry pondered Andromeda’s words. It was true that the lodge, located as it was in Scotland, was physically closer to the North Sea fortress than the manor in Wiltshire. Realistically, though, the inaccessible prison might as well have been a world away. “Hmm,” he mused. “That is odd.”

“Well,” Andromeda turned to him suddenly to fuss over his robes, “that’s really all beside the point. We are here today for a particularly important purpose. And may I say again, thank you. You really are doing the honorable thing.”

Harry really didn’t know how important returning Draco’s wand was in the grand scheme of things. He was just here to make Andromeda happy, really. In all honesty, though, it had begun to feel like a bit of unfinished business. There was no real reason for him to have held on to it for so long. Refusing to acknowledge this to Andromeda, Harry rolled his eyes and lightly swatted her hands away. “Right then, whatever. Let’s just get on with this already.”

They moved up to the impressive entrance to the lodge and, as if on cue, the door was opened by a house-elf wearing a plaid sash of sorts about its body. Andromeda inclined her head slightly towards the elf. “Good afternoon, Fergy. We are here to see Mistress Malfoy and her son.”

The house-elf had not moved to open the door further and was making no effort to hide his scrutiny of the pair. “Mistress has not informed Fergy of plans to entertain guests today. No guests are expected. No guests.”

“Fergy,” Andromeda’s voice was calm but firm, “I doubt that you need reminding that I am sister to your mistress. She does not require me to prearrange visits. You may show me to her now.” Not waiting for any further comment from the elf, Andromeda pushed the door open and swept past the dour creature. Harry hurried after her into the large entrance hall. “Whilst I visit with my sister, Mr. Potter will see Master Draco. Where might we find him?”

The elf became noticeably agitated and practically hopped up and down in front of them. “Master Draco - he is in the trophy room. But, he - oh, no - he is not seeing visitors. You must both see Mistress - in the conservatory.”

Harry could tell that Andromeda was purposely ignoring the house-elf’s dithering as she continued further into the hunting lodge. “Ah yes. It’s lovely in the conservatory this time of day. No need to show us the way, Fergy. I’m quite at home here. Some tea would be lovely, though. Meet us in the conservatory with a fresh pot. Thank you!”

Recognizing a dismissal when he heard one and, no doubt responding to the tone of command, the house-elf popped out and Harry and Andromeda continued on their way.

“You know, it’s at times like this that I don’t find it at all hard to remember that you were raised in a noble, pureblood family,” Harry said, with admiration in his voice. Andromeda was usually so pleasant and approachable that Harry often found it difficult to believe that she was truly related to Narcissa Malfoy.

“It comes in handy now and again.” Andromeda turned down an impressive hallway toward a set of double doors at the end. “That’s the main trophy room. Draco should be there.” When Harry hesitated she patted him on the arm, smiled encouragingly, and said, “Go on now.” Without further ado, she turned and walked away toward another area of the house. Harry supposed he knew just how Fergy had felt a few moments before.

**********

The large trophy room was Draco’s favorite of the lodge. It was filled with all kinds of animals that had fallen before mighty Malfoy hunters. Some of the trophies were only busts mounted on the walls. For others, the full bodies had been preserved and placed around the room on pedestals of various sizes proportionate to the animals displayed there. Wizarding trophies were similar to wizarding portraits in that they moved and were capable of vocalization. Draco liked the fact that they didn’t all move and make noise at once. That would have created a horrendous din, making it extremely difficult to relax - regardless of the amount of liquor he had consumed. 

Wandering aimlessly, as he was wont to do these days, Draco basked for a moment in the sunshine coming through the large bank of windows at one end of the room. The panorama of the surrounding forest land had always affected him. As a child, even when he was too young to join the hunt, the view from this room had made him feel as though adventure was only a moment away. Now instead of dreaming of adventure, he simply sought refuge here.

The animals, some native to the surrounding area, some bagged in hunts or safaris in more exotic places, still fascinated him. He made his way through the room, touching certain ones to activate and then deactivate the animation charms that brought them back to a semblance of life for his entertainment.

A semblance of life. The thought was somewhat bitter. “Well, s’pose we’ve that in common… right?” Draco asked of the large lion located at the mid-point of the room. Dropping onto one of the comfortable, overstuffed couches in the room, he sighed heavily before lifting and drinking from the bottle he carried as a child might carry a favorite stuffed toy. The contents of the bottle helped him feel bemused rather than anxious, angry, or sad. 

Reclining with his fair head cushioned at one end of the comfortable couch, Draco was in a perfect position to watch the lion that he had activated. The regal creature padded around the raised platform just beyond the other end of the couch, actually roaring from time to time. It was his favorite of all of the trophies displayed in this room. Such beauty and grace- so powerful. As another roar erupted from the lion, Draco raised his bottle in salute, and then drained the remaining contents.

He wasn’t certain what kind of liquor it was, only that it was potent - and locally brewed by Muggles in the area. Draco had just _known_ Muggles weren’t all bad - even before he had become disenchanted with Voldemort and the tenets of his insanity. And now this glorious Muggle brew confirmed it.

Dropping the empty bottle to the floor to thunk softly against the thick, woven carpet, he turned his attention again to the lion pacing powerfully around its dais. _He_ could be sleek and graceful like a great cat. To prove his point -to either himself or the lion - he sat up on the couch and moved to all fours. Slowly, he moved first one arm forward, then a leg and then so on - making his way from one end of the large couch to the other in the manner of a great cat stalking unsuspecting prey. Arriving at the end of the couch, he perched himself precariously with his knees resting against the arm. This raised him up somewhat closer to level with the lion. He brought his arms up and put his hands, drawn up in an imitation of claws, at either side of his face. To the lion he said, “Hear me roar, Gryffindor.”

******

Taking in a deep, fortifying breath, Harry approached the door. By the time he finally decided to enter without knocking, he was unsure how much time had passed while he had debated with himself about that single issue. Really, he needed to just get in there and get this over with. 

As he slowly pushed the door open, a roar emitted from inside the room. He immediately located the source of the sound. The large lion was difficult to miss. So was the glint of light upon the bottle Draco Malfoy was lifting to salute the beast. Harry was stunned as he watched Draco -no! _Malfoy_ (Damn Andromeda and her insistence that Harry call him Draco. Obviously it had become an unconscious habit.) drain the bottle. Though not a big drinker himself, he knew that it was far too early in the day to be drinking, period, let alone straight from the bottle.

He moved farther into the room. The other young man had not noticed his entrance, and Harry was feeling even more unsure about his decision to enter without knocking. He knew he really should make himself known, but instead found himself peeking at Malfoy from around the body of some kind of monkey. A dead, stuffed monkey. Despite the obvious elegance of the room, the fact that it was filled with dead animals tipped the scales on the creep-o-meter. At least, in Harry's opinion. Still, he’d experienced far creepier things in his day, so it wasn’t too difficult to ignore the monkey. Malfoy (as was often the case) was his focus, after all. Harry had spent a large amount of time in the past sneaking around to watch the Slytherin boy. He reckoned some habits were hard to break.

Harry now noted that Malfoy’s appearance was not neat as a pin, every hair slicked into place, as would have been expected. He wore a pair of black trousers and a white, billowing shirt, untucked. His hair fell straight, if slightly messy, around his face. As Dra- _Malfoy_ sat up and moved to all fours, Harry noticed that he wore no shoes. He was beginning to feel that, once the other young man realized he had an audience, Harry was really going to regret not having knocked. Deciding that now was the time to make himself known, he was just debating between a throat-clearing or loud feet-shuffling when Malfoy began to move. Or slink. Or… prowl. Harry could not look away.

It was obvious that Malfoy was imitating the feline grace of the great cat and, to Harry’s thinking, was succeeding famously. He could do nothing now but watch with fascination every movement the other young man made. The trousers seemed to cling to the definition of muscle as the legs moved forward. Dr- Mal- FINE! **Draco’s** bare, elegant feet - feet could be elegant? Harry shook himself a bit and realized that, as Draco had moved, he himself had moved forward. He immediately stilled, just as Draco raised himself up to sort of perch on the arm of the couch closest to the lion. As he brought his hands up, in imitation of claws, Harry absently wondered if he could have seen the movement of muscle in Draco’s upper body if his shirt hadn’t been so damn billowy.

Harry was certain he heard Draco saying something - apparently addressing the lion - the last word sounding suspiciously like “Gryffindor”. Then Draco pulled his lips back, baring his teeth in what Harry supposed was intended to imitate the snarl of the beast. Harry thought it looked sort of like a cute chipmunk and found himself grinning a bit. And then Draco said, “Grrr.” And Harry couldn’t choke back a delighted chuckle before it escaped him. Draco, yelping, shot him a wide-eyed, pretend-lion caught in the headlights look, as he lost his balance and pitched over, falling behind the couch. In one small corner of Harry's mind, the thought occurred that he was really glad that Draco was not yet in possession of his wand.

******

Draco had somehow managed to land on his back and now lay looking up at the lion from a completely different perspective. He had heard that excessive drinking could, after an extended time, cause hallucinations. Though he’d only in recent weeks begun his venture to drink every drop of spirits in the lodge, he supposed he must have consumed more than he had realized. Hmm. Why would he hallucinate Potter? Weren’t hallucinations supposed to be scary, rather than annoying? Maybe not. He’d heard something about Pink Elephants, and they weren’t scary. Or annoying. Perhaps they could be annoying if they made a point of following a person around for any length of time. And he really hated pink. Maybe if they were blue, or a really nice shade of green...

“Draco?” Hallucination-Potter was peeking at him over the end of the couch. He was now certain it was a hallucination, because Potter had never called him by his given name. Draco wondered why elephants were pink, but Potter was his normal Potter color? But Hallucination-Potter was peering at him now, and Draco realized he had forgotten his manners as a host. If indeed one need be concerned about manners with a hallucination. Or did it not matter since it was a Potter hallucination? Well, when in doubt, nod politely and say, “Potter.”

******

Draco was lying there - just lying there - watching him as if trying to decipher a really difficult puzzle. At least he wasn’t yelling or being insulting. Tentatively, Harry said, “Draco?” This resulted in the recumbent young man looking at Harry a little more intently, eyes more focused. Still not yelling. This could be good. Then he seemed to give a slight nod and simply said, “Potter” as if he was greeting a welcome visitor. Harry considered this even more bizarre than the whole prowling cat thing but still… no yelling. Harry decided that looking down on Draco over the side of the couch was making an awkward situation more so. Moving around the couch, he hesitated for only a moment before sitting down on the floor beside the silent Slytherin. Draco just continued to watch him.

Deciding he was going to have to be the one to break the silence, Harry now tried to think of something to say. He had been prepared for insults and condescension. Despite the fact that he had received a politely worded letter expressing gratitude after the trial, he had assumed it had been dictated by Narcissa in Draco’s hand. Especially since it sounded so similar to the one he had received from her. He really didn’t know how to interact with this quiet, obviously somewhat inebriated, Malfoy. Deciding not to spend more time agonizing over it, he blurted out, “What were you drinking?”

Draco knew he should be appalled at the rudeness of the question, but wasn’t. Obviously even Potter’s hallucination was so poorly brought up that it didn’t know enough to politely ignore Draco’s incapacitation. Since it _was_ only a spirits-induced vision of Potter, he didn’t see the harm in answering - and was pleased that he managed to do so with minimal slurring. “Something Muggle.” 

“Really?” Harry felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. He hesitated again, then asked, “Isn’t it kind of early to be drinking?” Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. Harry hoped it wasn’t a sign that he’d gone too far, lured into a false sense of security by Draco’s apparently near stupor-like state.

Oh really, now! Draco felt this must be addressed. Struggling into a sitting position, he leaned against the couch facing the vision of Potter. “Thas where yur wrong. S’not early. If I were you -” Draco stopped here and peered closely at Harry, taking in his perpetually messy hair, horrid glasses, and sub-Malfoy-standard clothing. Harry’s eyes widened as Draco reached a hand toward him, but then seemed unsure if he wanted to touch anything. Giving a small shake of his head and waving the outstretched hand dismissively, Draco proceeded to retract what he had previously said. “If _you_ were _me_ , you’d know wha’ time is it - it is.”

Draco nodded confidently, but didn’t seem inclined to explain that comment further. Harry realized that, if they were going to get anywhere, he was going to have to give up pleasant, somewhat endearing, drunk Draco and risk snarky, probably hostile, sober Draco. Though he’d never been very good at the sobering spells some of his classmates used with frequent efficiency, he drew his wand and hoped for the best. 

Draco’s eyes widened as he watched Harry Potter draw his wand and point it directly at him. He became less alarmed when he heard the incantation. The haze of the alcohol subsided after a few moments, but Draco continued to feel fairly tipsy. Since this indicated the spell was imperfectly cast, he smirked at Hallucination-Potter and said, “You suck at that spell.” He immediately winced inwardly at how common that sounded. Damn Muggle spirits. But... hold on… All at once, Draco realized that a supposed hallucination had just cast a spell on him. How likely was that?

Harry was pleased to note that Draco did in fact seem to sober somewhat. He’d issued his retort without a hint of slurring. His gaze was much more focused. But Harry could tell that his presence was now beginning to register with Draco. Would the yelling commence? Hurrying to forestall an explosion of Malfoy ire, Harry asked, “So what time is it?”

Draco blinked. Though still feeling the effects of the spirits, he supposed the spell had sobered him enough that he should not still be hallucinating. And the fact that the spell had been cast at all indicated that the Potter before him was more substance than imagination. “What?”

“You said that if I were you, I’d know what time it was.”

Still pondering the ramifications of a real Harry Potter sitting next to him on the floor, Draco absently answered “I meant that… that I sleep at odd hours. I’ve been up for a while.” Registering Harry’s blank look of incomprehension, Draco tried again. “To me, it’s later in the day than it probably is for you.”

Potter nodded and uttered an “Ah” in apparent understanding. And then he did the most unanticipated thing. Harry Potter smiled at him. It was a small smile, but undeniably a smile. Draco suddenly felt his heartbeat quicken. Nerves, surely. 

Feeling unable to continue to meet Potter’s gaze, Draco looked away before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I came with Andromeda.”

“Of course,” Draco said. Aunt Andromeda had been an increasingly frequent visitor since Draco and his mother had been released, following their trial. The whole family had been surprised to see her accompany Potter to the court room. Draco had not been watching Andromeda as the verdicts had been read, but Narcissa had. And, as she’d related it to Draco, had been quite surprised at the obvious relief that had suffused Andromeda’s entire bearing at their acquittal. It had been the beginning of a reconciliation between the two sisters. Draco had been pleased for his mother. She was not handling the separation from his father well, and Andromeda’s presence had helped immensely. “Did Teddy come, too?”

For some reason, Draco mentioning Teddy took Harry off guard. Though Andromeda had told him that Draco seemed to have a genuine affection for his young cousin, Harry had difficulty imagining it. “No. Not this time.” He shifted a bit before continuing and wondered, now, how to address the reason for his visit. “I needed to see you about something.”

Draco now turned a suspicious gaze upon him. Potter had been quite involved in presenting evidence in the trials. He wondered if The Hero was here now in reference to Draco’s activities during the war. He knew he’d been lucky. He could have just as easily been serving time with his father in Azkaban. Draco felt the anxiety he’d been battling since before the war’s end start to engulf him. Unconsciously, he drew his knees up close to hug against his body.

Harry was alarmed at the sudden change in Draco. Though he hadn’t seemed overjoyed at Harry’s presence, he had at least been somewhat relaxed. Of course, that could have been the effects of the spirits he’d consumed. Now he paled and seemed to draw in on himself. When Harry reached out to gently touch his arm, Draco flinched. “Draco.” The other young man lifted his head a bit, but his gaze remained downward. “I came to return your wand.”

Draco’s head shot up in surprise. He’d assumed that he would never see his wand again. Months had passed since the end of the war, and he’d had no indication that Potter had any intention of returning it. Draco had begun to think that, since Potter had used the wand to rid the world of Voldemort, it was being kept as some sort of relic or something. Now he could only stare at Potter, afraid to say anything. He knew he’d already given too much away. His still somewhat inebriated state had robbed him of his ability to effectively mask his emotions and reactions. Maybe once Potter handed over the wand, if he truly intended to do so, Draco would cast his own sobering spell. He was certain he could do so more proficiently than Potter had done. 

Harry was amazed at the play of emotion that swept Draco’s face. Astonishment, skepticism, hope, was that… satisfaction? He’d never really seen much of anything beyond condescension, derision, and hatred - making it difficult to now try to interpret other emotions on Draco’s countenance. A silence began to develop as the two regarded each other. Whatever was meant by the play of emotions on the other young man’s face, Harry was certain he could feel Draco’s anticipation growing.

Ignoring the mischievous urge to drag out the suspense a bit, Harry reached into his robes and withdrew the hawthorn wand. Grasping it in both hands, he slowly looked it over once more before holding it out toward Draco.

Draco watched as Potter withdrew the wand. For a moment, he seemed to be trying to memorize the look and feel of it in his hands. Finally, catching and holding Draco’s gaze, he held it out in offering. Draco felt hesitant. Maybe this was an hallucination after all. Would he reach for it, only to dissipate the vision of Harry Potter offering to return his wand? It had certainly been a fantasy he had visualized many times in the past months. Ultimately, it was the calm sincerity he saw in Harry’s eyes that urged him into motion. He gasped aloud as his fingers finally touched the wand, brushing Potter’s hand as he reclaimed it for himself. 

The look of joy that suffused Draco’s face as he grasped the rod of hawthorn, clutching it to his chest in wonder, robbed Harry of his ability to breathe. Why had he waited so long to do this? He had not used the wand since that final moment with Voldemort. Harry supposed now that looking at it, holding it, had made it all seem real. Had given him the sense of reassurance that it was finally over. The mad man who had killed his parents, instigating the misery that had marked Harry’s life, was truly, incontrovertibly dead. Andromeda had been right. It was time to move on and lay that era of his life to rest. With the wand back in Draco’s possession, Voldemort’s looming presence finally receded to blessed nothingness. 

Harry was roused from his musing by Draco’s sudden laugh. “ _Avis_!” Draco shouted joyfully, pointed his wand toward the ceiling. A small flock of little birds appeared and began to flit about the room. Both boys watched them delightedly for several moments before Draco called out “ _Finite incantatem_!” Then he was up on his knees, pointing his wand at different animals around the room causing some to sprout flowers or turn bright colors or reflect whatever whimsical urge took him.

Harry’s laughter drew Draco’s attention to him. His green eyes were glittering with delight, and Draco felt suddenly suffused with warmth. Harry Potter had returned his wand and was obviously enjoying, rather than begrudging, Draco’s relish in becoming reacquainted with his magic. At that moment, Draco was certain that Harry Potter was the most magnificent person in the entire world. And he didn’t even think it was the liquor talking. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Harry turned away from the lion that was shaking its mane in an effort to dislodge the daisies that had become entwined there. He was surprised to find Draco watching him with a soft smile on his face. Harry suddenly wished that he could return every day and do something to make Draco smile like that. He somehow felt certain that Draco needed that as much as he did himself. “You’re welcome,” he said simply, then added a bit sheepishly, “Sorry I didn’t bring it before.”

Draco sank back to the floor still facing Harry and, it seemed, sitting a bit closer than he had been before. With a slight shrug he said, “I can’t say I haven’t wondered about it. I thought, perhaps, that you were going to keep it.”

Harry’s brow furrowed a bit. “I don’t think I ever really intended that. I’ve… just had a lot of things to… work through.”

Draco nodded. “I can imagine you have.”

Harry regarded him for a moment. “You too, I’d wager.”

Draco dropped his gaze again. “Nothing I don’t deserve,” he admitted, realizing Potter could probably hear the tinge of bitterness in his tone, but unable to mask it. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet Harry’s again. “I know I was an idiot. Completely wrong about everything.”

Harry was surprised at the confession and wondered if Draco would have been this forthcoming if he was not still under the effects of the “something Muggle” he’d imbibed. He knew they could spend hours, days, talking about the past. Maybe Draco needed that, but Harry could not bring himself to venture there. Instead he asked, “So what are you going to do now?”

The question surprised Draco. Since he really didn’t have any plans beyond drinking heavily, he shrugged a shoulder and questioned Harry instead. “What about you? I was a little surprised when Aunt Andromeda told us you weren’t at the school they’ve established in Leicester.”

Of all the things Harry didn’t want to talk about. “What are you going to do about NEWTS?”

“Already took them.”

“Really?” Harry said with genuine interest. “When?”

“A few months ago.” Draco bit at his bottom lip as he added a little self-consciously, “Mr. Weasley arranged it.” 

Harry’s jaw drop garnered a grin from Draco. “Ron’s dad?” Harry finally managed to ask.

Draco shook his head in confirmation. “He was one of our frequent Ministry visitors at the Manor. Not one of the annoying ones,” he said thoughtfully. “He really seemed concerned about us. Decent fellow, really.”

Pleased that he managed to keep his mouth closed this time, Harry nodded his agreement. “So… good scores?”

“Passable.” Draco smirked. “Really, Potter, what do you think? I am brilliant you know.” The smirk transitioned to a grin. “So what are you going to do about NEWTS? I know you can’t get into the Auror program without them. Well - maybe _you_ can…”

Rolling his eyes in response to Draco’s teasing, Harry answered, “Even I would have to take the exams if I was going to be an Auror.”

“Aren’t you?” Draco asked, genuinely curious. “Thought I’d heard that was your plan. You and Weasley.”

Harry hesitated. He was astounded to realize he’d been holding a civil - no - _pleasant_ conversation with Draco Malfoy for several minutes now. Did that mean he should risk the ridicule he was likely to receive if he admitted to his actual plans? He supposed he was going to have to get used to sharing the news with people. And, since no one held a candle to Malfoy when it came to derision and ridicule, this might just be good practice. Taking a fortifying breath, Harry proceeded. “Actually, I’m going to play Quidditch. Professionally.”

The mockery he’d expected never came. Instead, Draco’s face filled with wonder and excitement. “Really? What team?”

“Montrose Magpies.”

“That’s brilliant!” Draco’s grin was soon matched by Harry’s.

“Thanks. We’re still working out the details, but it looks like I’ll start training with the team at the start of the new year.” 

“Who’s representing you?”

“Linus Grimstone. He also represents Oliver Wood.”

“Yes, I remember. Very good reputation, I believe.” Draco nodded his approval. “Congratulations, Potter. Really.” Draco held out his hand, and Harry didn’t hesitate to take it in a firm handshake. Again, the two young men matched grins.

Harry decided to share more in response to - finally - having someone genuinely interested and pleased for him. They discussed some of the points of the pending contract, and Harry discovered that Draco had a keen mind for business issues. Probably came with being the heir to a large estate. He also realized that Draco’s previous inebriation seemed to be fading. Harry was pleased that their conversation continued to flow easily. He had wondered if Draco would become distant and condescending again with the return of his sobriety.

“I have to say that I agree with Aunt Andromeda. Having the Magpies include time for tutoring during your training period, and taking your NEWTS, as part of your contract is a wise thing to do. Doubtful you’ll ever have to worry about your income, but you’re covered either way.”

Harry was somewhat amazed to realize how much he appreciated Draco’s approval. He experienced regret that he would, apparently, never have a conversation like this with his friends. Turning back to the conversation he said, “Well, you too, I suppose. Why does the heir to a pureblood fortune have to worry about NEWTS anyway?”

“It’s all about being accomplished. And remember that the Malfoys have historically held important positions in our society and government…” Draco’s voice dropped away as he realized what he was saying. Gone were the days of Malfoy influence. That had been made quite clear to him in the last months. Though his mother claimed she had moved their household to the lodge to be in closer proximity to his father, Draco knew there was more to it than that. The wizarding world reviled them. Their friends had deserted them. They were reduced to, for all intents and purposes, hiding out. Suddenly, Draco longed to find another bottle of that Muggle-brewed comfort.

Harry watched as Draco’s previous enthusiasm dwindled to defeat. Without thinking, he reached over to take Draco’s hand. In response to Draco’s shocked visage, Harry spoke with quiet confidence that he hoped would be reassuring. “I’ve spent the last six months listening to everyone tell me what I should do. Why I can’t do this or must do that. I’ve discovered that, no matter how I try, I seem to disappoint almost everyone. They all seem to have ideas about me that have nothing to do with who I am - or who I want to be. And, they won’t listen to why I can’t just give in and be who they want me to be. They don’t want to listen.” Harry paused. He wasn’t used to expressing himself this way. He didn’t know why, but it seemed incredibly important that he make Draco understand. “So… I finally figured out that I just can’t continue to worry about trying to make everyone else accept me and what I want. For now, I want to play Quidditch. I want to make my own decisions without everyone thinking they get to weigh in because they think they have some claim on me. I’ve decided what I want, and I’m not going to let anyone stop me.” Giving Draco’s hand a squeeze he added, “You can do that, too, you know.”

Draco could not believe that Harry Potter was obviously so concerned about him. It was what kept him from reacting with anger at Potter’s naivety. “I… appreciate what you’re trying to do. I am very pleased that you’re learning to stand up for yourself. But... you’ve got to see the difference in our situations. No matter what you do, at the end of the day you’re the beloved savior. So you can’t please everyone. I assure you there will be plenty of people who will be thrilled with whatever you do.” When Harry started to protest Draco held up a hand and said, “I know. It may not seem that way now. Just give it a little time.” Draco looked down at their clasped hands and continued. “At the risk of sounding utterly melodramatic, I must point out that I am the villain. I’ve done some truly despicable things, and I’ve got a mark on my forearm to remind myself and everyone else of that. It… limits my options somewhat.”

Harry didn’t quite know what to say to that. He knew that Draco was probably correct in his assessment. But, being a Gryffindor, he refused to leave it at that. “Just promise me that you won’t give up hope, Draco. Don’t give up. You’re tougher than that. Look what you survived with Voldemort.”

Despite himself, he could not help but be swept up by Harry’s sincerity. Damn Gryffindor. Damn Muggle spirits. Against all his Slytherin instincts, Draco could not ignore the spark of hope he felt within. Rolling his eyes, he managed a smirk that Harry seemed to interpret as a positive sign.

The pop of Fergy’s appearance startled both of them. Self-consciously, and somewhat reluctantly, Draco and Harry pulled their hands apart. The house-elf seemed to have forgotten why he had appeared and just stared from one to the other.

“Yes?” Draco finally asked of the small creature.

“Master Draco, sir. Mistress Narcissa’s sister is saying to tell Mr. Harry Potter that it is time to leave. She is waiting for Mr. Harry Potter. She says he must leave now.”

“Very well, Fergy. You may tell Aunt Andromeda that Mr. Potter will join her in a few moments.”

As the house-elf popped out, Harry turned to Draco. “Well, I suppose I should go.” He could feel the moment turning awkward and hated the thought that this visit should end that way. Apparently, Draco was of a similar mind. Harry’s eyes widened as Draco seemed to move closer to him again.

Draco admitted to himself that his sudden boldness could have been the lingering effects of the earlier drinking binge. Or regret that the best day he could remember having in well over two years was suddenly coming to an end. Whatever the reason, he decided to give in to a certain, unexpected desire. “I believe that I’ve yet to adequately express my appreciation to you for the return of my wand.” 

Harry’s mind and body seemed to be responding in surprising ways to several things all at once: the lowered pitch of Draco’s already somewhat normally husky voice, the warmth emitted from the body that was moving still closer to his, the hand that had slipped up to cup his cheek in a gentle caress. Harry had a distressing suspicion that between his widened eyes and gaping mouth he probably resembled a fish. The thought that he didn’t want Draco to think that he resembled a fish was lost in the warm rush of breath against his lips as Draco whispered, “Thank you.”

Despite the fact that he’d been fairly sure of what was about to happen, Harry gasped as Draco’s lips brushed softy against his. He would never have believed just that slow back and forth movement, almost a pre-kiss, could be so exciting. Draco’s lips were surprisingly soft and deliciously full. While the idea that he was evaluating Draco’s lips should have registered as bizarre, Harry found that nothing seemed more important at that moment than becoming a more active participant in this process. Not wanting to rush, though, Harry decided upon some gentle nibbling. He decided to take Draco’s soft cry of response as a positive sign.

Who would have thought that sweet, innocent Harry Potter would be a nibbler? Desire shot through Draco, and he couldn’t stop himself from sealing their lips together. Had anything ever felt so completely perfect? Draco didn’t think so. But then Harry’s tongue slipped gently into his mouth, and he decided he’d leave thinking for later. 

He was kissing Draco Malfoy. He had his tongue in Draco’s mouth. It was unbelievably brilliant. And then Draco started a gentle sucking, and the kiss shot way past brilliant to fucking glorious. Harry was completely lost in the sensation and couldn’t have said how many minutes passed before the need for air forced their separation. Still in a haze of desire and completely unable to think clearly, Harry whispered “Thank you.” With his eyes still closed, he sensed rather than saw Draco’s smirk.

“That’s my line, you realize,” Draco whispered back.

“Okay.” Harry murmured as he finally opened his eyes. He was pleased to note that Draco looked every bit as affected by the kiss as he was. Harry thought perhaps he should say something, but nothing was really making itself apparent. He decided to allow Draco to direct any conversation. He’d just - answer the knocking at the door.

Damn! Draco could guess that Aunt Andromeda was probably at the door to the trophy room, having grown impatient waiting for Harry to come to her. Or - it could be his mother. “Just a moment!” he called out. Harry also seemed to realize that an intrusion was imminent. Both of them rose from their spot on the floor and stood facing each other. Each was smiling sheepishly. Draco rolled his eyes, morphed his smile into a smirk and said, “You’d better go.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The reluctance in Harry’s voice and body language was no doubt obvious, but he moved at last to go. At the door, he turned, stupidly pleased to see Draco still watching him. “I’ll come back again sometime. With Andromeda. And Teddy. If that’s ok?”

Draco gave him a brilliant smile and a quick nod and watched the door long minutes after Harry had passed through it. At last he began to look around the room, happily using his wand to end his earlier enchantments. He saved the lion for last, removing the daisies and then deactivating the animation charm. He frowned slightly as he wondered if he would be like the lion, returning to his hollow, lonely existence now that the Gryffindor’s radiance no longer shown upon him.

Draco straightened after a moment. “No.” he told the lion. “Harry was right. I can choose my life. They will not decide for me.” Moving toward the couch, his foot bumped against the bottle he’d dropped earlier. His liquid comfort. Without hesitation, Draco banished it with a determined flick of ten inches of hawthorn and unicorn hair.

*************************

Harry knew that Andromeda was dying for more details of his afternoon with Draco than “Yes, I returned his wand.” She finally seemed to give up and began to talk about her visit with Narcissa, then on to more plans for Grimmauld Place and, inevitably, ideas for Teddy’s Christmas presents. 

He suspected she knew he was only half-listening, but he couldn’t seem to care. To Harry, the afternoon had been momentous, and he could not resist turning it over and over in his mind - some parts more than others. He had returned Draco’s wand, putting to rest that bit of unfinished business. He had, at last, discovered someone who fully understood and supported his future plans. Finally - and Harry could not stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face at the thought of it - he had received the best kiss of his _entire_ life from Draco Malfoy. That, as much as anything, convinced Harry that he was on the right track with this ‘do what you want, don’t just stick to what’s expected’ business. Yeah. For the first time in his remembrance, Harry was not at all concerned about the thought that, once more, his life was about to get really interesting. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 
> 
> Thanks to Sevfan for encouraging me all those years ago and initial feedback before the original posting. ♥


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